An Iceman's Lament
by BDrakesgurl
Summary: Bobby Drake assesses his feelings for Marie, despite her being much in love with Logan.


Title: An Iceman's Lament 

Author: JenN 

Rating: G... 

Pairing: Logan/Marie, Bobby 

Summary: Bobby assesses his feelings for Marie 

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone from Marvel. Bobby owns me, but I'm not in the fic ;-) 

Author's Notes: I crave feedback like hormonal teenage girls crave chocolate! Plus... this song was inspired by Lifehouse's song, Breathing. The lyrics are below... 

Breathing 

by Lifehouse 

I'm finding my way back to sanity, 

Again. 

Though I don't really know what I'm gonna do 

When I get there. 

I take a breath and hold on tight, 

Spin around one more time 

And gracefully fall back to the arms of grace... 

Cuz I am hanging, on every word you say and, 

Even if you don't want to speak tonight 

That's all right, all right with me... 

Cuz I want nothing more than 

To sit outside heaven's door 

And listen to you breathing.. 

That's where I wanna be, yeah... 

Where I wanna be... 

I'm looking past the shadows in my mind 

Into the truth and I'm 

Trying to identify the voices in my head, God, 

Which one's you 

Let me feel one more time what it 

Feels like to feel and 

Break these calluses off me 

One more time 

Let me feel for one more time 

What it feels like to feel and, 

Bring these careless ears off of me 

One more time 

Cuz I am hanging on every word you say and 

Even if you don't wanna speak tonight 

That's all right, all right with me... 

Cuz I want nothing more than, 

To sit outside your door 

And listen to you breathing 

That's where I wanna be, yeah... 

I don't want a thing from you. 

I bet you're tired of me, 

Waiting for the scraps to fall off of your table 

To the ground... 

Cuz I just wanna be here, now... 

Cuz I am hanging, on every word you say and, 

Even if you don't wanna speak tonight 

That's all right, 

All right with me... 

Cuz I want nothing more than, 

To sit outside heaven's door 

And listen to you breathing 

That's where I wanna be... 

An Iceman's Lament: 

He's inside there with you, right now, probably curled up beneath the warm blankets, arms tightly wrapped around your form. The moonlight is clearly streaming in through the window, slipping away from the offensive curtains, and dancing over the gentle curves of your cheek that I've always studied while you spoke to me. I always managed to 

smile at the right time, and mutter the responses expected of me, but for the most part my mind was wandering off while my eyes moved about your face, captivated for the most time by your chocolate brown hues that seemed capable of drawing in a person's soul with little to no effort at any time. 

I watch you during the day, probably a bit more than I should, because lately I've been receiving looks from Logan that silently threaten to deal with me, quite violently, should I attempt to interfere with the good thing you have going. I never would, Marie... 

I'm not like that, and I'm pretty sure you'd know that. But how do I explain this to Logan? How do I tell him that I have no intention of slipping you out from under him, because I don't find myself worthy enough to be the man you love? I could love you with every fiber of my being, but it's not the kind of love you want. You want wild, and exciting, and something totally unpredictable... a love that a teenage boy like me, who just recently turned in his squeaky voice for lower, deeper tones, and realized with a slight puff of pride that he was finally growing whiskers on his chin, cannot possibly know how to offer you. I can be dependable, longlasting, and standard, but finding a love is not like shopping for a car, and so none of these things matters in the long run. 

You take in a deep breath, I can hear now without having to press my ear to the door like I used to whenever I passed, and there's a faint ruffle of the blankets as you shift to get more comfortable. You sleep on your side, I remember from all those nights you'd crept into my room, clutching the small stuffed animal I'd leant you when you'd confided in me your trouble sleeping. You told me that night, as I stroked your hair and watched with envy as your gloved hands swiped across your milky skin, removing from your cheeks the spilled tears that were induced by another bought of self-doubt- perhaps that night it'd been a nightmare- that you tended to snore when you didn't sleep on your side. All the memories blur into one now, some nights spent within the confines of my room, both of us trying to blot away your sadness by whispering various tales we'd made up about the teachers living just down the hallway, always careful not to mention the newest addition, who'd maintained his habitual departures that came without warning, and always took a piece of you away with him... 

Other nights, we'd go outside, pulling blankets with us, and spread them out on the open roof of the school, vainly searching for constellations that you'd proclaimed you knew, only to find out you had about as much knowledge in astrology as I did, which was little more than the big and little dipper and, if we were lucky, Orion's belt. 

A brief grunt from the room startles me out of my reveries, and I hold my breath, with the hopes that the man with you has not woken, or I will suffer severely the next morning. When he shifts some and returns to sleep, his voice even and blending with yours in a rhythm that shouldn't sound so right to me, I let out the faintest breath of relief. I should be jealous, furious that he came between us, after being away so long, but I can't. How can I, when he makes you smile? When his entrance into a room is enough to elicit from your pouting, cherry lips a smile bright enough to seep into your eyes? 

No, I'm not angry. Perhaps a little disappointed in you, which surprises me and hurts me more than I could say. You're my angel ... and such perfection shouldn't be capable of causing disappointment, for they know no failure. But you... you've allowed me to be treated so poorly, by yourself as well as Logan. You quirk small smiles when you see me with a bruise that was brought upon me simply by asking you to lunch, and apologize with a faint, "I'm sorry," and "You know how he is..." If anyone ever touched you so harshly, I would freeze the very water, swimming through their veins along with their blood, and watch in pleasure as they died, because angels are not to be bruised. 

After that, our friendly banter and bits of time to each other dwindled, disappearing into the shadows haunting every corner of my world. Occasionally I see you, with Logan, and offer a brief wave, though you turn the other cheek before he can see. I am not bitter ... just willing to accept my losses, and hope that our love, while not romantic, could sustain ... that the bridge of friendship we'd built long before he came back into the picture. 

There's another rustle of the blankets and sheets, and a small groan as I imagine Logan raises his hand to rub his eyes and wonder why he's awake. Any second now, my scent will reach him, and with a growl he'll tear out of bed, in his own quiet way, so as not to wake you of course, and he'll throw the door open and spit fired threats at me. And me? I'll take them, as usual. I'll smile some and tuck my hands into my pockets, for I've gone through too much to fear the Wolverine any longer. I wonder if I've any feeling left at all now, since you've severed any type of connection with me... 

Turning on my heel, I can faintly hear the bed creak as he pushes himself off of it. My smile grows a bit, imagining Logan's surprise to find that I'd been sitting outside your door for the entire night again. I doubt he's ever noticed it before ... but then, this was the first night I'd had the courage to actually sit down. 

Normally I just slacken my pace as I travel by, ears perhaps yearning to hear my name being whispered amidst the darkness, as it once was. But there's never a sound, and I imagine there never will be. 

By the time I reach my door, turning the handle, I hear yours open, and see a faint outline of Wolverine's head as he looks this way and that, no doubt facing the direction I'd just moved in. Part of him will want to go after me, but a large part of him doesn't find me worthwhile. As I slip into my own room and feel more than see the looming emptiness my disheveled bed presents, I wonder ... do you? 


End file.
